


Don't...just don't

by BurntWhisky1



Series: Tempted [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Codependency, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-08 20:14:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12261315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurntWhisky1/pseuds/BurntWhisky1
Summary: it's the easiest thing in the world to simply turn his head a little and capture his lips with his own





	Don't...just don't

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks all of you for reading, and the kudos and comments on parts 1-9.

 

Dean's head drops back to the floor, the feel of grit beneath his skull a minor thing compared to the throb in his balls and the raw pleasure/pain of the over-sensitized place deep inside. His arousal weeps in uncontrollable little bursts and he desperately needs relief; already the pleasure is setting into a belly-griping ache.

He remembers he's lying on his back in a service alley, jeans pulled part-way down and exposed to the world, vulnerable. Dean Winchester doesn't do vulnerable and so he rolls up on one elbow, ignores the way an invisible fist slams into the side of his head and tucks himself away, his fingers slipping and his swollen cock begging for attention.

It's not going to get attention. It wouldn't be getting attention even if he was in a safe location. Because Sam is walking away. In Flagstaff.

Everything else is so far down the scale of significant that it's almost invisible.

"Sam?"

His brother is nearly at the Impala and doesn't acknowledge the shout, so Dean lurches to his feet, ignores the slow, nauseating tilt of the parking lot and jogs after him.

"Sam, hey, Sammy!"

Sam spins on his heel, his hair flopping dangerously over his narrowed eyes.

"What, Dean?"

The glint of something shiny in his hand reminds Dean that Sam has a key to the Impala and his tone implies that he just might be planning on leaving his older brother's ass right here. Dean reaches out blindly and grasps the cold metal of the Impala's roof as though he can somehow prevent her departure. Besides, falling over is something he just doesn't have time for right now.

"What the hell was that!" The question blurts from his mouth, because really, Dean needs to know what's going on.

Sam puffs impatiently. "That was me, giving you a taste of what you were asking for in the bar, remember? When you were begging for it from some stranger. 'Cause he was going to bring you out here and fuck you up against the wall."

Dean looks a little shocked at the coarseness of the language because Sam does not generally talk that way. The denial is still forming on his lips when Sam loses patience.

"Look, I'm gonna get my things and get out of your hair for a few weeks, so you can figure things out, 'cause you're all mixed messages, Dean."

Dean's face bleaches white and his fingers tighten their grip on the Impala.

"We're in Flagstaff," he points out in a shaky voice.

"Yes." There's a waspish note in Sam's words as his mind replays Dean's blatant flirting...which would've led to kissing, which could've led to much more.  
"Flagstaff. And maybe this time I'll stay gone."

"No!" Dean's face is suddenly drawn beyond his years as fear widens in his eyes and clenches the muscles in his jaw.

"No what? No, you weren't gonna let that big dude screw you senseless!? " Sam finds he is shouting, incandescent with gut-scouring rage.

Dean steps up close to him; there is anger and confusion on his face and his words come out in a deep snarl. "So what were YOU tryin' to do?"

Sam wipes a trickle of blood from his nose with a shaking thumb. He wants to tell his brother he loves him, in all the right ways to love a brother as well as in all the wrong ways, and that he's sure Dean feels the same way but just won't admit it. But the words are lost, trapped beneath an impenetrable, frozen layer of jealousy and perceived rejection that hardens his face and turns his voice to ice.

"You're drunk. You can hardly stand upright." The fact that Dean is swaying and clearly off-balance adds to Sam's irritation. "I'm going back to the motel, then I'll get going."

Dean is still very close to him and fists his jacket in a loose grip.

"Don't," he says, with a little catch in his breath. "Just...don't."

"Last time..." says Sam clearly, "...I ran away from you and Dad. This time I'm leaving 'cause us being just brothers, that's not working out any more."

"We can stay brothers, same as we always were." There's a plea in Dean's voice.

"Nothing in our lives is ever that easy." Sam tugs the hand free. "Get in Dean. I'll get my own transport from the motel."

Dean swallows, close enough that Sam can see his throat move even in the poor light. "I'm sorry, Sammy."

Sam shrugs, cold despair settling around his heart, because really what else could he expect? That Dean might actually be interested in geek Sammy in that way?

"It's my fault," whispers Dean, his mind filled with memories of a drug-hazed daydream in a bath full of bubbles, another dream about his little brother so intense only the slide of his fingers in a lonely bathroom could relieve the need. To his shame, his cock stirs again at the thought of Sam's mouth slipping over him.

"No, it's not your fault." Sam shakes his head; Dean can't help being beautiful no more than he can help wanting him. "It's my fault. I'm asking you to be something you don't want to be."

Of course, thinks Dean. All Sam wants is an older brother he can rely on, not...his mind can't even put it into words, that thing he's afraid of wanting. He has to be a brother and nothing more.

"I'll try okay. Please, Sam?"

But Sam is turning away.

"I'll do anythin' man. Anythin'." Dean is begging and he knows it, but he can't lose Sam, especially not in Flagstaff. "What are you asking for dude? What do you want from me?"

"Maybe more than you can give," says Sam, looking back, wishing his brother's lip wasn't trembling and that his face wasn't so close and so perfect in its distress. He sees the way Dean's eyes glitter with moisture and unthinking he reaches out and drags a thumb over the wet track that has appeared across the soft skin and sharp stubble of his brother's cheek.

"Get in, Dean."

Sam turns away abruptly, before he can forget that Dean doesn't want him that way, and opens the driver's door.

Behind him Dean lists, icy starbursts pricking over his clammy skin as he fights the tilt of the parking lot. His head feels as though it may explode and his gut churns but it's not important right now so he fumbles around to the passenger side and drops onto the seat. The movement of the Impala turns his vision to shredded rags of headlight-illuminated road and he digs his fingers into the edge of the bench seat...

"Hey!" Someone is tapping his face and cool air is on his skin. Dean shudders, feels the material of Sam's jacket beneath his fingers and blurts out something slurred about not going, please, because without Sam he's nothing, nobody.

"Shh," says Sam. "Not going anywhere, just breathe Dean, please."

There's a while when everything goes quiet and colorless and then Sam's lips press warm against his forehead and Dean tilts his head up and feels the brush of them on his cheek. He finds he is leaning against the solid warmth of his brother and it feels safe, right, even the headache has backed off a little, at least for now.

Sam's lips ghost over his cheek and his breath wafts warm and it's the easiest thing in the world to simply turn his head a little and capture them with his own.

There's a split second of surprise on both their parts, then an immediate response that sets fire to Dean's groin and suddenly they are kissing, soft at first, exploring, then harder, more passionate. Sam drives in his tongue and Dean is there to meet him, swirling his own around the invading muscle that tastes all Sam.

There's a moment of fear as Sam takes hold of the back of Dean's neck in his large hand. It's a new thing this, not being the one in control all the time, and it stirs something primal in Dean's blood when Sam tugs him upright, manhandles him to the rear door and pushes him into the back seat. His balls pulse as Sam climbs on top of him, pinning him with his greater bulk and Dean instinctively moulds his body against Sam's larger one, driving his hips up and swivelling them for maximum friction; he was so close before, now he's right back at the edge.

"C'mere," he mutters, gripping at Sam's hair and tugging him down, arching his back and opening his mouth so Sam can push into him with his tongue as he forces the thick strength of his thigh between Dean's legs.

Dean groans, dry humping up against his brother's cock as it rubs against his own and Sam pulls his head back and smiles at him, his eyes dark in the gloom and something possessive and loving in his expression that makes Dean's legs fall open.

"Sammy..."

"I've got you," Sam murmurs, sliding his fingers into Dean's hair and biting under his jaw.

"Sam!" A gasp. "I... I can't..."

Sam looks down at the face beneath him, its bones sharp under the pale skin, mouth open and wanting. His fingers are sure on the button-less flies, work the zip down easily to free his brother's cock. It's hot and heavy and slippery and so ready that Sam pulses in his own pants, gasps into Dean's mouth.

He wriggles his feet back out of the door, ignores Dean's whine of protest as he slides down his body and then tugs his brother's jeans down to his knees.

Dean's cock is rigid, his mouth open with surprise as Sam lowers his shaggy head and flicks out his tongue and Dean's eyes go huge and warm. Salty spunk spurts onto Sam's lip and he grins up at Dean and slides his large tongue over the tip, swirls it through the slit, licks down the length.

"Sam! Uh..."

And Sam will tease him for that later, that wanton, hot little cry when Sam sucks him into his mouth.

Dean moans, deep, grinds up into Sam's throat, his fingers twisted into Sam's hair.  
Sam lifts his face, letting the thick cock bounce free for a second.

"Can I?"

"Uh, yeah, please I can't...."

Dean takes the offered fingers into his mouth eagerly, sucks and coats them with saliva. His legs are open and Sam fingers the tight furl of skin with his slippery fingertips. So tight; Dean has never taken a man there before, he's sure.

Sam sucks the weeping cock back into his mouth, suckles on the sweetness as he slips a finger inside, works it around and slowly adds another. Dean whines, part pain, part need and he pushes onto them until Sam's long fingers hit his prostrate.

"Sammy!"

Sam feels the grip in his hair become savage and moves his fingers harder, rubbing as Dean fucks onto him and into his mouth. His brother is shaking now, his hips pistoning in hard, sharp, rutting motions, he's so close, head thrown back and his mouth open.

Sam opens his throat, swallows deep and presses with his fingers. Dean cries out, the sound so hot that Sam comes a little, and then Dean is there, his hips jerking and hot salt/sweet filling Sam's mouth and throat. He swallows, sucks, swirling his tongue, loving the breathless noises coming out of Dean's mouth, keeps the motion going until Dean is pushing him away, his breath sharp pants and his eyes all glazed.

Sam moves up, tenderly strokes his brother's face and kisses away his tears. "I love you, Dean."

And Dean pulls him close and kisses him deep and reaches down between them, but Sam captures his hand and smiles at him.

"I can wait," he murmurs. "Until we get back to the motel."

Then he kisses Dean some more, lets him taste himself in Sam's mouth and knows from the instant grind of his brother's hips that they're going to have a lot of fun later.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it let me know :)  
> Kudos and comments keep me writing!


End file.
